


A Year Without Hermione

by AlixxBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, Separation, book and movie canon compliance, famly, happy endings, movie canon references, relationship hardships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: When Hermione asks for a divorce, Ron refuses.





	A Year Without Hermione

 

           “I want a divorce.”

           Normally a bit clumsy and dramatic, Ron merely pauses midway through his bite to look Hermione dead in the eyes. Here they are, just days before Christmas, when they’re meant to spend the holiday season hosting the whole of the Weasley family in the house they’ve just purchased together, and she’s asking for a divorce? Unsure that she’s serious, Ron opens his mouth and jokes about it. After all, can she really be serious? “Don’t we all want a divorce around the holidays? Family drama and what not…”

           But Hermione doesn’t smile the way she usually does.

           And she doesn’t muffle her laughter the way she used to.

           “I really mean it, Ronald. I want a divorce,” she sighs... lazily? No, she’s exhausted. What has her so tired? She works a good many hours at the Ministry but, if anything, her hours have been reduced. Is there something else? Have they been fighting more? Ron doesn’t feel they have but he asks.

           Asking seems simple enough until Hermione coughs in surprise. “Are you actually shocked?” Nodding in affirmation, Ron makes it pretty clear that he is _very_ surprised by this request. Not more than a month ago they were talking kids – literally talking about having their own kids! Not one, but probably two! There’s been no sign of change, or stress, or anything negative. Ron sets his fork down and moves his plate ahead of him.

           With folded hands on the table, he watches her closely for any signs. Instead, though, they just stare at each other. Hermione probably waiting for Ron’s questioning, and Ron waiting for Hermione’s explanations; and yet the silence prevails. Eventually, Hermione comments that she’ll be in the guest room if there’s an emergency. Knowing it would be best to give her space, Ron does not follow.

           Unsure what to do with the harsh reality that Hermione is unhappy enough to want to separate, Ron does what he would do in any other situation: finish eating.

 

* * *

 

 

           Nobody notices the awkward interactions between them; though Ginny did ask earlier if there was something going on, or if they needed help hosting. Hermione assures that she hasn’t said anything to anyone and had no plans to make any announcements until they could reach an agreement on the separation terms. They discuss this while sharing their bed under separate blankets. It has been an uncomfortable few days but not pervasively. Ron feels guilty and wonders if things have been this way for longer than he’s noticed.

           Hermione almost seems to hear his thoughts and remarks. “I think Ginny might be pregnant again. I noticed that she kept her sweater on all night even after we lit the fire.”

           “I don’t bloody care if she’s pregnant,” Ron comments, but then agrees. “But you’re probably right. I remember when we were kids she would throw fits to run around without a shirt on like us boys.” Ginny would hang her sweater up if she was warm, and Ron is sure she was sweating when they crossed paths in the kitchen. He thinks of Charlie down the hall, likely reviewing field notes on the dragons he’s left in Romania. He wants to publish his studies into a comprehensive guide to better educate witches and wizards before pursuing a career working with dragons.

           Of all of the Weasley children, Ron always thought that Charlie had it together the most. Maybe Percy was planned and organized in every way imaginable, disgustingly so really, but he was unhappy with the job he garnered at the Ministry. Percy is rebuilding now, but Charlie never had to abandon his practice. He never had to rely on chance. He simply went for it with blind abandon and passion.

           Ron rolls over and looks at the back of Hermione’s bushy haired head. “Why do you want a divorce, Hermione?”

           She snorts in what was meant to be a snore. However, Ron knows that she doesn’t snore, and he knows confidently now that she isn’t sleeping. Her breaths are too deep and her shoulders are stiff. Ron reaches a hand out and rests it on her elbow – the least intimate of places on the arm – and he jostles her. “Hermione, I want to understand. You don’t have to tell me now but when Charlie leaves… I want to know…”

           Ron pauses, partly hoping she’ll respond and partly hoping she doesn’t.

           Then he accepts that Hermione will only speak to him when she’s ready.

           “I love you,” he whispers for his own mental stability.

 

* * *

 

           Hermione drafts the divorce papers on her own when she thinks Ron isn’t looking, however he is perfectly aware. She’s been offering to work more hours at the Ministry and Ron manufactures different excuses for why she’s not around. With a smile drawn across his face, nobody bats an eye whenever he regurgitates some predictably plain response. Hermione reinforces his lies when others ‘fact-check’ his answers.

           Ron feels that today is a good day to tell Hermione what he’s decided on the matter. He walks right up to her in the guest room, scribbling away on the parchment in the dim light of her favorite candle. “I refuse.”

           “Pardon me?” Hermione asks. Surely somewhere in her mind she knows that he means the divorce, but she waits for him to state it for her clearly. And he does. Ron refuses to agree to a divorce. Completely distraught by this, Hermione apparates without warning. Ron suspects he knows where she’s gone. Tomorrow George will ask questions, though Ron doesn’t expect it will be many. For now he won’t worry of it. There’s still sleep to be had.

           Time proves that he is unable to sleep, however, and Ron rustles out from under the covers. He hurries off towards the kitchen, trying not to glance back at the bedroom where his side of the bed remains messy and empty...

 

* * *

 

           Harry comes first, telling Ron that he’s taken the day off to visit. When Ron turns down his best friend’s efforts to get him talking, Ginny shows up. Between the both of them, they silently agree to pry Ron’s conscience open to get the truth from his side. Ginny reveals that she is pregnant, as Hermione had observed back around Christmas, and Harry reveals that he’s planning to interview for the Head Auror position when it becomes available nearer the summer.

           But he keeps his mouth shut, of course, because they haven’t mentioned a divorce. They haven’t mentioned Hermione. He might not seem as witty as he wife, or as observant as his best friend, or as mindful as his sister, but Ron is not dim. Aware that they wouldn’t be here lest they were unaware of the situation, and this comforts him. A smile wriggles over his cheeks and he gives them enough to be at peace. “Hermione wanted some space, okay? She’ll come around when she’s ready.”

           Ginny takes the hint with poise, as she often does, and offers to come back around for dinner with Teddy and James. Ron accepts to let them know that he’s fine, but Harry is the only one convinced. Regardless of what Ginny thinks is true, he leaves the living room to take a shower.

           Many would say refusing to face reality is not healthy, but Ron sees no reason to accept the divorce as a fact. Hermione still has not told him why she wants to be separated. And as far as Ron can assume at this point – she doesn’t seem to have one.

 

* * *

 

           On his birthday, nobody offers to throw a party. Hermione has been living out of her suitcase and sleeping at whatever Inn she thinks of first when she walks out of her office. However, tonight she shows up at their house and makes him dinner. She tells him that nobody should be alone for their birthday.

           “If you don’t want to be here, then please don’t be, ‘Mione,” Ron barks as she drops plates angrily on the table. He has no intention to push her away, though he’s not going to accept her pity either. The best thing he can do for her is let her work around in her head and figure it all out on her own terms. It hurts every single day waking up alone knowing that his wife might not love him anymore, but Ron refuses to be a charity case either. “Really, Ronald, must you be so rude?”

           “ _I’m_ rude?” he practically shouts. “Don’t you think it’s bit _rude_ to come over on my birthday with divorce papers hanging out of your bag and act like you’re here for me?” Hermione scoffs, laughs, and then shakes her head. She goes on about how thick he is, how selfish he is, and what a childish man he is, but never once denies that he knew precisely why she’s come around. When she’s done yelling, she crumbles to the floor in tears. Ron stands next to her, debating how much comfort to offer her, and then crouches to avoid having to raise his voice again.

           Hermione looks up with wet cheeks and red eyes, “Please just sign the papers? Why are you making this so much harder than it needs to be?”

           A huff escapes Ron’s lips and he isn’t sure if he cares if it brings her any ache. The urge to reach out and give her physical comfort that was tingling at the edges of his mind dissipates. This is hard on _both_ of them and, until she is willing to find closure together, he won’t offer it freely. It takes work to be together and it takes work to break up together too. There’s more at stake than their feelings now.

           “You know,” Ron starts, lifting himself back upright to walk away. She watches him, her chin tilted towards him now, hopeful despite Ron’s flat emotions and tone. “I’m not the only one refusing to cooperate here. Stop acting like a first year at Hogwarts and _talk to me_. If you can’t do that, then don’t come ‘round, eh?”

           Hermione disapparates from her place on the floor but Ron barely hears the crack as he wanders into the bedroom. Normally the wholly messy bed is just a reminder of his wife’s absence; a token of proof that he is as alone as he feels. Most days he avoids the bedroom until he is too tired to function but today he finds it very inviting.

 

* * *

 

 

           Ginny asks Ron what’s happening blatantly after Harry reports that Hermione has requested an unplanned vacation without an indication that she might’ve been considering as much. “It’s time you tell someone what the bloody hell is going on because none of us can help if you’re both shut up about it!”

           Is there a point in beating around the bush when this has been going on for six months? Ron shrugs and uses his magic to whip together two cups of tea. Ginny calms with the warmth of her glass, and she rubs her protruding stomach. She’s left midway through this Quidditch season for maternity leave and is due literally any day now, Ron thinks, so she doesn’t need the added stress.

           It is this reason only that he finally shares aloud what the situation is between Hermione and himself. “She’s asked for a divorce.”

           “When?” her voice is empty, almost as if she’s known the whole time. Of course, if she had known she wouldn’t be asking now when she’d asked. Ron figures there’s nothing to hide because there’s nothing else going on, not really. “Christmas.”

           “Merlin’s beard,” Ginny chokes, “She didn’t? Did she really?”

           Ron tells her it was two days prior to their Christmas gathering. He finds that it is easier to share with her, even in a steady voice, all of the events that have transpired since. Once he’s done, she is left with his same question. “Has she said why?”

           Ron shakes his head as he lifts his cup to his lips.

           “She’s acting like a child,” Ginny declares.

           Agreeing would be equally as childish so he shrugs instead. “It doesn’t matter how she’s being. I’m refusing to sign the papers.”

           Something about his sister’s laugh is rejuvenating, as if he’s never heard something so brilliant before, and he finds that he’s laughing right along with her. Between their wild outbursts, Ginny tells him that she will support him in any way that he can manage. Ron knows it’s actually she who will need the support with a second child coming so soon. “Whatever is happening, Ron, we love you. Harry, me, mom, dad, James, little Lily Luna, we’ll always love you.”

           “Thanks,” he breathes, finally tearing up about the whole mess.

           “That’s what family is for, Ronald,” the explanation falls out so easily. It is one of those subtle reminders that he’s got a sister that cares for him and a family of stubborn redheads that will always belong to him and to whom he’ll always belong as well. Weasleys. They have a short cry together while finishing their tea.

 

* * *

 

 

           It’s a rainy day when Hermione shows up. “What do I need to do to get you to sign the papers?” She comes to the front door and is soaked. Ron is still dressed in his pajamas, having the weekends off this month. Recognizing that he has only a few options, and admittedly addled by sleep, he grunts at her to step out of the cold. “Tell me what needs to happen for this to be over.”

           Ron rubs his eyes and gives her the same response he’s been practicing for when this very day would come. “You have to agree to go on a date with me.”

           “No,” she refuses promptly. Then she repeats her reply angrily. “No!”

           Shrugging, he accepts her denial. “Fine. Good-bye.”

 

* * *

 

 

           She returns offering to continue paying her part of the house payment, agreeing to leave her hands off of his part of the investment in the joke shop, and even offers a variety of treasures to be enjoyed should he agree to just sign the papers. Ron refuses each one swiftly and easily. “Why?”

           “Because you haven’t once told me what brought this on. I still have not bloody idea why you’ve decided to get divorced,” the explanation falls upon deaf ears, though, so he adds one final bold statement to draw her attention. “If you let me take you on one final date then I’ll stop asking for your reasons.”

           “Are you really going to be so petty, Ronald Weasley?”

           A shrug, a nod, a laugh, and then another shrug…

           “Absolutely, Hermione Granger. I absolutely am.”

 

* * *

 

 

           Finally, once again at Christmas, the invitation arrives. However, it is different now because it is only addressed to Ron. Though the divorce is not final, Hermione has distanced herself from the family entirely. She doesn’t take lunch to meet with Ginny. She avoids Harry at work. She hasn’t been seen in Diagon Alley in months. Ron knows she exists because she’ll come every few weeks to plead with him again about signing the divorce papers, which he refuses with increasing confidence each time.

           Almost as if she’s felt the absence of her name on the card, Hermione Floos her way into the living room. Chalky and charred, Hermione contorts her face into an expression of defeat. It is an unfamiliar look and Ron nearly pinches himself to ensure he isn’t dreaming. “Fine.”

           “Fine?”

           Hermione tells him that once he is ready to ask her out, he knows where to find her, and that she’ll accept amicably enough. Ron smiles and offers his hand, which she takes, and they shake as if the whole exchange was meant to be a business deal. It’s what Hermione knows best. “I’ll ask when I feel ready then,” Ron shares. Hermione jerks her head in a curt nod and then asks if she could clean up and have a drink before leaving back to work.

           “Take a night off, ‘Mione,” Ron suggests before waving her down the hallway. Cackling madly to herself, it’s apparent that she’s been working a ridiculous number of hours in her absence. He figures he can put a full dinner together and set the table for her. She’ll have to dine alone, of course, because Ron already ate and was ready for bed.

           When she returns, she tries to make small talk but Ron brushes past her with minimal explanation. Her gaze lingers as he walks down the hall. “Just clean up after yourself, if you could, please,” he requests before disappearing into the bedroom. Hermione might’ve agreed but he’d never know for sure without asking. He collapses onto the cool mattress.

 

* * *

 

 

           Ron shows up with Hermione’s favorite lunch at breakfast, perfectly aware that she’ll have been into work earlier and skipped the most important meal of the day. He forces her to break away from her desk to eat and uses this opportunity to ask her out to the ballet. A show that he recalls her enjoying in her childhood is being performed and he feels she needs a night away from the wizarding world. Agreeing more enthusiastically than he anticipated, Hermione comfortably accepts his date request. “The ballet was like a second family to me, you know,” she says, and Ron knows the story well but he lets her give her reasoning. Brightness in her eyes that he’s not seen in a year, more than a year actually, returns with such vigor that it leaves him breathless.

           Waiting around for the clock at the cottage to show six-thirty sounds easier than it is and requires quite a bit more effort from Ron for the duration. He cleans the house by hand and refolds his entire wardrobe. He runs some errands for groceries and cleaning products that he’s wiped out, and then returns home to to magic his best suit to perfection.

           As soon as the time arrives, Ron apparates to the Ministry to meet Hermione in the lobby, where she’s standing in a casual gown for the evening. It is pink, not unlike her Yule Ball gown from their fourth year amid the Triwizard tournament, but this dress is much shorter. It cuts off just above her knee and angles down with fabric that is longer in the back. Her neckline comes up high over her neck. On her arm is a familiar petticoat that Ron knows she’ll never part with, but it is soon being slipped over her arms. “Let’s get a move on,” Ron offers playfully.

           It seems like a weak effort in his mind but it brings a smile to Hermione’s face. The twinkle in her eye betrays the sarcastic look she attempts after her amusement. Happy for this small victory, he tells Hermione that he’s got a reservation with her parents at one of her favorite restaurants for after as well.

           Hermione gawks at him with a toothy grin. It should be awkward, since Ron knew when making these arrangements that her parents haven’t seen her since her birthday last year. When she doesn’t make a comment on it, Ron decides not to either. They know without saying that it will be uncomfortable.

 

* * *

 

 

           The ballet was properly boring. Ron couldn’t have cared less about it, but he spent his time watching Hermione. Though their age has begun to show in different ways, throughout the night his wife looked every bit as youthful as she had in their fifth year at Hogwarts. She quite likes her hair at that length and has been wearing it that short for a few years. Ginny jokes that it ages her but Ron has always loved it. During a brief pause in the show, Ron had told her so. Even in the shadows, her blush was apparent.

           “Ron?” Hermione asks, her voice short and sharp the way it usually is when they’re fighting. He’s been staring into his hands during the cab ride to the restaurant. Specifically, he was looking on at his wedding band. In his reflection of the evening so far, the question was forming in his mind: _who would I be without Hermione Granger?_

           “Sorry,” Ron mutters, “I was just thinking about how happy you were during the performance. I haven’t seen you smile for a long time. Not like that, anyway.” Tears are threatening his eyes, which causes his throat to tighten. Without looking her on, the redhead knows she’ll be glancing at the cabbie to see if he’s listening. Reaching a hand over to his knee, Hermione tries to comfort him.

           “You haven’t either,” she remarks. It’s the first actual comment she’s made that gives Ron any clue what this divorce business might’ve been about. If he hasn’t seen her smiling and she’s not seen him smiling…

           Could it all have been a misunderstanding?

           Hope dares to pump Ron’s heart faster, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

 

* * *

 

 

           Hermione greets her parents joyfully and sits close to her mother, chattering on and on about her work accomplishments. She’d been given a new position earlier in the summer. Ron had heard but he knew nothing else beyond that. Still, he feigns convincingly that he is fully aware of her work. Neither of her parents make a face at their distance. Though the worry that this may be their last date is pounding against his conscious in heavy waves, Ron doesn’t allow himself to be encumbered by it.

           Whenever they turn to say something to each other, or take a bite of food, Hermione and Ron share hard glances that are heavy with emotion. Though, it’s unclear if the shared looks are meant to offer closure. Hope still pumps through his body, nearing ripping his veins into shreds whenever Hermione gestures across the table at Ron as if nothing had changed in the last year.

           He loses track of the conversation at some point, a result of his trip to the loo, but once he comes back he doesn’t integrate back into their talking either. Instead he focuses on finishing his dish. He’s only drawn back in by Hermione’s father nudging him and speaking lowly directly at his ear; “Mum’s been asking about grandkids while you were gone…”

           Of course she has, Ron groans to himself.

           “We haven’t discussed it recently but we’d brought it up around holidays last year,” Ron shares, recalling exactly how that conversation had gone. Hermione was hoping she’d be promoted before having kids and Ron was generally indifferent. Nothing about it had seemed significant at the time but in hindsight? Ron feels that he might not have offered enough support. In fact, he hadn’t shown any excitement about the idea of becoming a father at all. More assured, he lifts his gaze to Mr. Granger and grins. “I would very much like to be a father.”

           Flawed in nearly every way imaginable, Ron knows that he often takes serious matters with slack expressions or easy complacence. Always the worrywart of the group, Hermione worried for everyone tenfold. It would have never helped Harry if Ron were the same. “And a mighty fine one, you’d make, Ron,” Mr. Granger smiles genuinely. Had they not been separated for the last year, would they have come to visit Hermione’s parents often? They never had before…

           Ron attributed it to the painful reminder that she took their memories. Though they had forgiven her immediately, Hermione was never totally at peace with the choices that she’d made. Ron remembers once when they visited their faces fell as they remembered a feeling from when they’d gone to Australia during the war, but they had no memory to pair it. She knew that there was no fix for the damage and effect she’d brought upon them without their permission.

           And he figures, no, they would not have visited as often.

           “Should you retire soon, perhaps we can move you closer to the cottage?” Ron suggests, pretending as if his marriage isn’t on the line and that the divorce had never been a consideration. It would be hard to find a place for them to be that is closer, but it wouldn’t be impossible. Witches and Wizards live in London, so there are ways to co-exist with Muggles.

           “That would be lovely,” Mrs. Granger coos, taking her daughter’s hand and staring lovingly at her only child. Ron admires that look so greatly, since his mother was always stalking about to keep the Weasley bunch together. She did often look upon her many kids with love and affection, but there was always a simmering underneath. The busy mind of a half-mad woman worrying about how to feed and tend her brood without risking some other need of theirs. Hermione’s parents do not have that simmering underneath. They are not plagued with the worry of anything. Ron feels a moment of sadness towards his mother and all she sacrificed to give to her children.

           He can only hope he’ll be half as good as a father, should he get the opportunity to expand his family. “I do wish you were closer to us,” Hermione admits. A flurry of promises come from the mouths of the three Grangers, well two Grangers and a Granger-Weasley. Ron was surprised but unhurt by when she asked to keep her name. Now, thought, he wonders if he shouldn’t have offered to change his own. After all, Hermione has little left connecting her to the family she’s left behind to be the brightest witch of her age.

 

* * *

 

 

           Hermione doesn’t ask to return to the cottage but she does. When they arrive, they fall into a routine that they’d long forgotten with Hermione’s nomadic move away. When they settle on the couch, knee-to-knee, with their tea, they let their faces settle into blank expressions that are tinged with relief.

           Silence prevails for several long minutes as their bodies begin relaxing, their backs slouching and their heads loll off to the side. A grin tickles Ron’s lips and he decides that he should speak first.

           “Tha-“

           “I’m so-“

           Laughing at the irony that they both choose to speak at the same time loosens whatever tension had been building. Hermione insists that Ron say his piece first. And he does without complaint. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Mrs. Granger-Weasley.” A painful reminder spears the back of his mind that this may be the last time he gets to call her this.

           “It is I who should be thanking you, Mr. Weasley. I could not have had a better time,” she whispers, a trembling in her voice. Unsure if she’s about to cry, Ron scoots closer and rests a hand on her knee. This is the most intimate interaction they’ve had – even before Christmas last year. Ashamed, he offers an apology too. “I’m sorry.”

           Hermione laughs, tears spilling from her cheeks at the sudden movement of her face. It’s the sort of laugh that causes her to jolt forward holding her cup tightly. She is bent over herself. “You’re sorry?”

           Then, without asking the question, Hermione tells Ron what had made her ask for the divorce. She started with the smiling, talking about how neither of them had seemed properly happy for months. As she detailed the signs that their happiness had soaked out of their marriage, she was burdened by how accepting they were of the way things had come to be even after bringing up kids. Hermione reveals that she’d only brought up children because she thought it would fix their marriage. “I thought it would bring life back to us if we started expanding our family,” and she rolls her eyes now at the thought. Both of them know what a burden it would have been to expect a child to cure something so deeply wound inside of their relationship.

           But Ron wants it to be clear now how he feels. “I meant what I said,” he declares. “I do want to be a father.”

           And she melts in front of him, pulling her cup to her chest with more tears spilling out. “Of course,” Hermione says, “Of course you do.”

           “Do you want to be a mother?” he questions, not knowing if she’s thought any more seriously about it than wanting it to fix their broken marriage. Hermione sits in front of him for a very long while, looking on at him and considering this potential life as a parent. Hermione was a nurturing woman and more than capable of being a mother, Ron is sure of it. She handled Grawp so well and her fierce pursuit of S.P.E.W.’s values in her career proves her dedication to care for those who cannot always defend themselves. When she doesn’t reply, he tells her all of this out loud.

           Hermione pauses in thought.

           “Can you forgive me?”

           Ron doesn’t hesitate, “Only if you forgive me first.”

           Simultaneously they move their cups to the table and fall into a sloppy embrace. There is no need to state that the divorce is no longer a matter of concern. Hermione doesn’t have anything left to explain, and Ron has shown that he realized his own faults too. Nobody apologizes as they stand to leave the living room. Ron and Hermione just _know_.

           That is the wonderful thing about being married, Ron thinks.

           Together they are crawling into bed, snuggling close together at ease with the differences that had long kept them apart. Ron’s arms wrap around Hermione as comfortably as ever and he finds compelled to whisper into her ear. “’Mione?”

            Wiggling at the heat of his breath, she giggles. “Yes?”

            “Maternity leave in the winter sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t it?” Expanding their family might not be the best idea, considering how they’ve just resolved their quarrel. There’s no need to rush, he knows, but there’s no need to wait either.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Houses Competition on FFN, which you can find [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/The-Houses-Competition/202668/).
> 
> Ron often gets the short end of the stick where ships are concerned. I wanted to portray him in a way that allowed him to stay in character and stand his ground when Hermione makes a decision for the both of them without talking to him about it properly first. I hope I was able to accomplish that and that I appeal to the Ronmione shippers.


End file.
